


The Reader

by Owl_Athena



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Mystery, Politics, Quirm, Timey-Wimey, Vetinari is intrigued
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-18 20:55:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15494499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owl_Athena/pseuds/Owl_Athena
Summary: Vetinari spends some days in Quirm and discovers a mystery. He inquires out of curiosity and finds that the implications are far more serious than he thought.





	1. The Other Reader

**Author's Note:**

> More characters/tags will be added as the story proceeds. I aim to publish a new chapter every other day.   
> Please be gentle, English is not my first language though I try to have everything beta-read before publishing.  
> This is my first fanfic, let me know what you think.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vetinari enjoys a few days of undisturbed reading in the old library of Quirm when he meets another reader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited, this time with fewer mistakes. Thanks to Karen for beta-reading!

1\. The Other Reader  
The Patrician of Ankh-Morpork pulled the big, dusty book towards himself and carefully adjusted the book support so that he would not damage the spine of the old tome. With the tiniest glint of delight in his eyes, visible only to a very careful observer, he opened the book where his leather bookmark indicated the end of his last reading and bent over the page. The same careful and most of all hypothetical observer who would have noted his delight would still not be entirely sure if he had seen his brow furrow for the merest fraction of a second when the door to the reading room opened and a person entered. Vetinari did not look up from his reading, his eyes continued to trace the lines on the mouldy paper. He did not turn when the newcomer walked across the room and behind him to the librarian’s desk. A few words were whispered, a brief quiet laugh, and the other reader walked past the patrician again and found themselves a place in a small alcove with a window overlooking the cypresses that bordered one of the many parks in the City of Quirm. The library fell silent again, apart from the occasional cough from the elderly librarian and the sound of notes being scribbled by the reader in the alcove. Vetinari focused on his book again, glad that the intruder into this place that he had come to enjoy so much these last days did not cause any further disturbance.

The rest of the morning was passed in studious silence until the librarian walked towards the big glass door to the hall with a meaningful look at his only two clients and cleared his throat, indicating that his lunchbreak was nigh and the library would be closed for an hour. The reader in the alcove rose to this sound, gathered a few utensils, and walked out of the room behind Vetinari. A brief glance before they parted ways revealed that it was a woman dressed in black trousers, a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, her ash-blond hair held up in a messy knot by what appeared to be a pencil. As she walked the pencil no longer held the strands in place and slowly slid down the side of her head, giving her a striking similarity to a plate full of original Quirmian pasta. As the Patrician headed towards the small café in the courtyard of the former palace that now housed the library and some administrative offices he heard a ‘clink’ behind him on the old stones and knew that the pencil had given up its job. He smiled and took a seat at one of the few wobbly tables scattered across one corner of the courtyard. He ordered a simple sandwich in perfect Quirmian and let his eyes wander over the grass that was visible through the big stone arch to his right.

He had always marvelled at the spacious parks in this city. Given that it’s streets were sometimes so narrow that people could not only hang their washing across the streets but also check how often their neighbours changed their underwear, the wide green patches of grass -- invariably lined by cypresses and stone pines -- seemed like a waste of space to the visitor from Ankh-Morpork. Nonetheless he had enjoyed them as a boy when he had seen them for the first time. They had provided an escape from the ever-crowded house of Madame with it’s endless receptions, dinner parties, soirees and so forth. Young Havelock had found a quiet place in the shade to read and think and to watch the local families and couples that filed into the gardens in the evening when the air was cooler. He had come at night as well, when the parks were closed and he could explore them on his own, marvelling at the imitations of ancient temples that were hidden among the trees, laughing at the inexpertly made copies of classical sculptures along wide and straight promenades, breathing the air that was clear in this city only at night, perfumed by the scent that emanated from the myrtle shrubberies. When he had climbed back over the conveniently ornamental fences and snuck back into Madame’s house, more often than not there had still been guests chatting on the terrace, voices loud from too much wine. They had never noticed Havelock, even when he had made no effort to fade into the background.

Vetinari’s musings were interrupted by a young clerk walking hurriedly across the court with a look of importance on his face.

“M’lord”, he said with his pleasant Quirmian accent. “The ambassador from Klatch has arrived. You said you wanted to be notified when...”

“Yes, thank you” Vetinari interrupted, slightly irritated by the man’s eagerness. The man looked at him expectantly. When Vetinari did not move he asked: “Are you not coming to meet him? The reception is going to take place at Place de Mont Gauche, in front of the embassy.”

“I don’t think I am.” Vetinari waved a hand lazily. “If anyone asks, tell them you did not find me.”

When the young man still did not move, Vetinari turned his gaze to the gardens once more. A few seconds later, the keen Quirmian clerk had finally gotten the message and walked away, significantly less enthusiastically than he had arrived. For a brief moment, Vetinari wondered if he should have been more gentle on the man. But no, he had a reputation to maintain, especially here and now. Besides, he had even spared him his traditional phrase that always annoyed Vimes so much. As for the ambassador, he would meet him at the dinner tonight and that was much earlier than Vetinari liked. For the afternoon, he would return to his book and enjoy the rare moment of leisurely reading.

When he returned to the library, the other reader had already taken her place in the alcove. Vetinari saw only her back for the rest of the afternoon. When he left in the early evening to apply himself once again to matters of statesmanship she was still there, and the pencil was back in place.


	2. The Prime Minister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vetinari attends the prime minister's inauguration and makes someinteresting observations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, brand new! With fewer mistakes!

Vetinari stood in a circle of men in black suits, a glass of wine in his hand, bored and displeased that he had had to leave his cool, quiet reading room, get dressed and stand in a sunny, uneven market square and listen to long-winded speeches that did not mean anything. What was more interesting for him was to see who was there and who was not; where people stood and how they looked. For instance, he had noticed a group of rather self-important looking men that had deliberately put on ‘plain’ clothes rather than the fancy robes that they were obviously more accustomed to wearing. Vetinari knew that they were used to robes not because of the way they moved in their tuxedos, nor the way they seemed to assume that people would make space for them when they walked through the crowd. He knew it because he had spent the last days in the library, reading up on Quirmian history as seen from the perspective of Quirmian historians: that is, the history of the Quirmian aristocracy as presented by Quirmian aristocrats. There had been portraits, of course, and family trees, and coats of arms. It was for this reason that Vetinari did not just recognise the faces but also the inconspicuous pins on their jackets that sported their family colours. He had also recognised the smug look on their faces as they turned around and looked over the ranks of foreign dignitaries and back to the little stage where the new prime minister would appear in a few minutes, looking like the owners of a dog who was about to perform a particularly clever trick.  
When the prime minister had arrived Vetinari was pleasantly surprised. Not by who it was, of course - Vetinari had known that she would win the election weeks before the event – but by the intelligent look in her face. She was a commoner, everybody knew that. And a woman. That was hard to ignore. But that was not the reason that Vetinari was surprised by her firm features and the alertness in her eyes. She had risen to power quickly. Daughter of two teachers, a more than modest background, she had initially worked for the Quirmian Tribune, raising the standards of the magazine to a degree that they had had to give her the sack – the readers couldn’t be having with the degree of detail and background research that had framed her articles. She had travelled around a bit with the small amount of money she had saved, and eventually taken up a position in the Quirmian embassy in Klatch. Initially she had been a mere scribe and interpreter, but she had quickly climbed the ladder until she had been made undersecretary to the ambassador himself. The few people who took an interest in this sort of thing had expected her to become the next ambassador but instead she had run for the office of prime minister of the City state itself. After initial opposition by pretty much all the important families of Quirm, the tide had suddenly turned some months ago and she had been given a platform. Aristocrats had invited her to posh dinners and made her meet representatives of the major industries, all of whom she had known already, but now she had become part of their circles. They had let her speak about equality and human rights, speciesism, and health insurance, workplace security and free education.  
Vetinari had read the reports with interest, always waiting for the day when she would have a horrible accident or some scandalous detail from her past would surface to ruin her campaign. When this did not happen, when she was indeed elected, and the world had been invited to attend her inauguration; when, in short, her success had been staged and propagated in front of the political audience, Vetinari had decided to attend the celebrations personally. Whom could he have sent, after all? The old noble families of Ankh-Morpork disapproved greatly of the situation. It was bad enough that Quirm democratically elected their rulers, but until now they had at least had the decency to recruit them from the local nobility. Sam Vimes would have been delighted, of course, but Vetinari strongly felt that this was not a situation in which Vimes’s special political skills would be appropriate. So he had arranged for things in Ankh-Morpork to function for a few days without his personal presence, put on a pair of robes that looked vaguely ‘foreign’ and ‘scholarly’, and had spent a few days at the library, secretly enjoying the opportunity to be almost incognito.  
Despite his limited attempts at disguise he had remained unmolested by the city officials for three full days, until word of his arrival had got around and concerned clerks had appeared to pay him unwanted attention, offer him equally unwanted comforts and invite him to social gatherings he did not feel like attending. Today, of course, the official events had begun so he had become a politician again, but he had decided to be a private reader again in the morning. No one had bothered him in the library, which he had had all to himself until the woman with the pencil in her hair had arrived and she did not seem to be interested in him.

Vetinari scanned the crowd as the new prime minister entered the stage and began her inauguration speech. He watched for patterns in the groups of people gathered on the square as the words washed over them. They were unfamiliar words for such an occasion. Words like ‘equality’ and ‘education’ were common enough, though not usually meant seriously, but words like ‘property taxes’ and ‘end of privileges’ were not normally voiced to large groups of people, especially when those holding both property and privileges had taken seats in the front rows. The men in black tuxedos looked amiably at the prime minister, every so often looking around to take in the reactions of the crowd. The foreign ambassadors looked vaguely concerned, except for the emissary from Uberwald who simply suffered in the warmth of the late afternoon and did not seem to pay much attention.

Now he was standing in a circle of foreign envoys, some local advocates, and two merchants who tried to profit from the presence of assorted political figures and had already offered him special deals on, in one case, magical lawn mowers, and in another case, hand books on civil law. The latter had thought Vetinari was from Pseudopolis. The Brownian motion of the reception had taken on a distinct pattern that Vetinari had observed on many occasions. Groups of men in tuxedos discussed something quietly among themselves, politely nodding at anyone passing and changing the topic as soon as anyone stopped to join their conversation. Then the circle would dissolve, and each tuxedo wearer would attach himself to a new group, changing the topic of that conversation, too. None of them ever joined the group which included the new prime minister but just now one walked towards the group which included Vetinari. He melted into the group, holding a drink like it was a badge that gained him access, and laughed too loud at the first thing that was said, which wasn’t even a joke. 

“May I introduce myself? My name is Philipe Delahaye. I hope you gentlemen are enjoying our informal little gathering.”, he said to Vetinari and the envoy from Klatch. He shook both their hands, moving forward a little which essentially made the circle smaller, excluding the two merchants. “Lord Delahaye, actually, but these are modern times and titles don’t mean much anymore, do they?” The Klatchian ambassador looked slightly uncomfortable at that announcement, while Vetinari’s face remained entirely impassive. Neither had a chance to respond as the man went on, “Of course, Mrs Garofano is the best example! Did you know her parents were teachers? That goes to show... These are modern times”, he repeated, “and Quirm is certainly open to the idea that a mere commoner can lead our city to... equality and ... intellectual capital!” The words sounded as if he was reading them from some internal script on the inside of his forehead, but he made up for this by adding extra emphasis to them as if he was convincing himself. “I hope that the gentlemen are nonetheless interested in joining us tomorrow for a little informal soirée at the house of Lord and Lady Fiordaliso? Lord Vetinari?”

“Certainly”, Lord Vetinari replied briefly. He was beginning to regret that he had not taken Vimes with him. But it would be most interesting to see what they were up to.

“I expect the prime minister will be present as well?”, he added.

“My lord, I am afraid the prime minister is very busy these days, you understand, this being her first day in office. She will certainly be invited but I would not be surprised if she could not attend an informal little evening such as the one tomorrow.”

That was the third time he called something ‘informal’ in just a handful of sentences, Vetinari noted. They must have been planning it for months!

He would meet the prime minister the next morning at his official audience. He was curious what she would have to say to him. Nonetheless he found himself hoping that the meeting would be quick so that he would have time to return to the old library once more. He had grown rather attached to the place.


	3. The Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vetinari talks to the Prime Minister, learns all about a book and finds himself in the middle of a mystery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Dave for his corrections and some great suggestions!

Lord Vetinari met the new Prime Minister on the following morning. He noticed the inevitable hubbub in the council house resulting from the change in the political leadership of the city. A clerk led him through a long hallway in which people were rushing to and fro, carrying piles of documents, potted plants, books and, in one case, a stuffed badger. As soon as he entered the Prime Minister’s office the noise died away and he found himself in a surprisingly comfortable and well-organized room. Dr. Eleonora Garofano was seated behind her large desk of polished oak wood as he entered, reading over the rim of her glasses that had slid down her nose almost to it’s tip. She was a woman in her fifties, had short grey hair and intelligent steel blue eyes which shone in her olive face.  
“Good morning Lord Vetinari. Please take a seat.”  
“Good morning Dr. Garofano. Thank you for meeting me.”  
“I was looking forward to meeting you Lord Vetinari. I was surprised that you attended the celebrations in person. I am told you even arrived a few days prior to the events. I can’t help thinking that you appear to be taking a personal interest in our small city.”  
“I certainly am, Ms. Garofano. I have followed the political developments with interest for many years. Even more now that a person seems to have been chosen as a leader based on competence. I believe that is a first in the modern history of the Disc.”  
The prime minister nodded in agreement, her face unmoved by pride. Vetinari had simply voiced an observation.  
“I rather hope this could become a model. What do you think, Lord Vetinari?”  
“Personally, I do not believe that democratic elections bring forth the most competent leaders of a society, however, I do agree that noble birth is not a sufficient qualification. But alas, we must work with what we find, and a man who is used to having his orders obeyed but is not too concerned with what made him give these orders in the first place can, at times, be useful.”  
“Yes, you are quite in control of the local nobility, from what I hear. Speaking of which, you haven’t brought Commander Vimes to Quirm. I would have so loved to meet him. He could have taught my compatriots some useful lessons. His boots-theory of social inequality is frequently cited in... my circles.”  
“I am sure that Commander Vimes would agree with much of what you said you were trying to achieve during your term of office. What he perhaps wouldn’t share is your optimism regarding the chances of achieving it.”  
“It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it.”  
Vetinari nodded.  
“I shall follow developments with interest.”  
“I’m sure we are honoured by your interest, Lord Vetinari. I am looking forward to our diplomatic relationship. Perhaps Ankh-Morpork can learn a thing or two from our small city. I will always be ready with advice, should you want any.”  
A tiny smile flashed in her eyes. Vetinari’s face betrayed nothing. After a moment’s pause, Ms. Garofano pulled a file towards her and glanced at it over her glasses.  
“Very well, Lord Vetinari, let’s get to business. The wine trade... “  
Two hours later, Vetinari left the office of the prime minister. Dr. Garofano had certainly learned a thing or two in her time at the embassy, and she knew very well what she wanted and what she was willing to give. She had had all the numbers and trade agreements from the top of her head, keeping the papers ready merely for the look of the thing. While negotiations had been tough, she had never appeared anything but calm and focused. Vetinari was rather impressed by her first steps on the political dance floor. Clearly, something must be wrong.  
Vetinari had expected to find a marionette, an idealistic but simple straw puppet that could easily be influenced by the nobles and the economical leaders – often the same people – who had clearly no interest in ‘equality’ and ‘intellectual capital’. How was it possible that they had allowed a competent person to rise to office? Vetinari was going to get to the bottom of this. Gladly, his research would have to continue in the library.

When Vetinari arrived at the old library, the woman with the pencil in her hair was there, kneeling in front of her desk on which sat a big, old tome that she had turned sideways. She was holding one page up, glaring at it from below, her nose barely above the edge of the table. Vetinari stood in the doorway for a moment, looking at the curious scene, and then walked to his spot in front of the book shelves. As she heard his footsteps in the previously silent room, she turned and stood, and quickly walked towards him. She took him by the sleeve and pulled him gently but insistently to her alcove, and whispered urgently.  
“Please, sir, come and help me for a moment. I’m fairly sure I have found it, but I can hardly see the watermark with the dim light in here and the book is too heavy for me to hold it up against the window and read at the same time.”  
Vetinari allowed her to lead him to the table where she placed the large book in his arms and instructed him on how to hold it up, keeping a particular page straight against the light. Then she took a magnifying glass and moved it in front of the page, peering at the binding and the page, apparently ignoring the writing on it.  
“There! I knew it!” She tried to cry out while whispering at the same time. Even in her excitement she did not forget the rules of a library. She looked some more, while Vetinari patiently held the heavy book up and waited to find out what had caused the sparkle of success in her eyes.  
When she had seen enough she took the book from his unresisting hands, scribbled a few notes in her notebook, gave him the magnifying glass and held the book up for him to see.  
“See? It’s best visible near the binding where the ink isn’t covering the lines. You are looking for faint blueish lines that look as if they were inside the paper. Move your head around a bit, you will see it.”  
Vetinari did as she had told him, not quite sure what to expect. After e few moments he thought he could see something. He peered at the spot from different angles, and there it was, quite clearly once he had found it. Fine lines, more purple than blue, that seemed to shimmer through the paper that was lit from the window behind. They seemed to move as he watched, but after Vetinari’s eyes had adapted to the light, he could make out the shapes. There seemed to be a flower of some sort, and a key in front of it, and something written underneath that he couldn’t quite see.  
When he turned his look away from the page, the woman put the book down and opened another, rather slimmer and newer book at a page marked by a slip of paper and pointed to a drawing.  
“It is this, isn’t it?”, she asked?  
“It may well be”, agreed Vetinari, “I can’t be sure.” He leaned over the page to read the words below the drawing. “Sang royal et la fleur imperial”, he read. “The family crest of the Fleurdaliso family.” She nodded wordlessly, but she looked approving.  
“Come”, she said. “I owe you an explanation. And a coffee.”  
They walked out of the library and took a seat at a wobbly little table in the courtyard, where she ordered two of the strong black coffees of which the Quirmians were so fond.  
“I am Doctoressa Cardinale, Carmen Cardinale”, she said. She pulled the pencil from her hair and ran her fingers through the tangles.  
“Havelock Vetinari.”  
“Oh, I see...” She looked at hm for a moment, as if unsure what to do with this information, but apparently decided not to pay it any particular attention.  
“Doctoressa in ....?”, Vetinari inquired.  
“Philosophy”, she replied.  
“Just like the prime minister,” Vetinari stated.  
“Yes. Have you met her?”  
“I had the honour just this morning.”  
“What do you think?”, she asked.  
“She has great plans for the city.”  
“Mhh. They won’t let her succeed with any of it.”  
“Who are they?”  
She gave him a look.  
“I think you know that very well.”  
Vetinari did not answer this.  
“Why did they let her win the election in the first place?”  
“Who knows. Perhaps they want to make an example of her. Look, everyone, how a commoner, an idealist, a woman, despite her education and her political talent, isn’t able to lead the city to better times.”  
Vetinari nodded. He had no doubt that what she said was right. But there had to be more to it. Why was this happening now? Well, he would have to wait and see.  
“The thing that I found in the book... They won’t like it.”, she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes. The codex you have seen is a compilation of different texts concerning the origins and the deeds of the Fiordaliso family. They trace their origins back all the way to the earliest kings of this realm, tell of their great deeds, and how the kings granted them lands and honours because of their valiant actions in war and politics. At one point, they married a royal daughter off to a Fiordaliso son. This is why they have their coat of arms: The key as the keeper of the city’s gates, one of their honourable titles, the lily to demonstrate their connection to the king’s bloodline, the motto to hammer home the message to anyone who didn’t get it first try.” She laughed. “Only...”  
“Only that you found the family crest on a page that recorded events prior to this marriage?”, Vetinari ventured.  
She looked impressed again.  
“I did! And more so, it isn’t a proper watermark to start with. It’s a forgery! The lines should simply be a little paler than the rest of the paper. If you look at it through a lens tinted with octarine, you can see that the lines are magical. The whole codex has been assembled from different bits and pieces, some of them authentic, some not, and then combined and made to look authentic by magic!”  
“I am surprised they let you study the book.”, Vetinari said.  
“They don’t know I study it. They used it in an exhibition here in their old palace some months ago, together with other items demonstrating the glory of their family. Meanwhile they had their own library refurbished so the things were stored here in the vaults where the librarian could take care of them. They never explicitly said that they were to be kept secret. I could simply order it for examination like any other item in the library’s collection. They know me here, I had no trouble getting access to these things.”  
“It probably helped that you are related to the new Prime Minister.”, said Vetinari.  
Her brows furrowed. “What makes you think that?”  
“I am the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork”, said Vetinari. Same accent, same education, same steel-blue eyes, he thought.  
“She is my aunt.”, Doctoressa Cardinale said a trace defiantly. “I’m sure she is being used. I will find out why and by whom. And when I can prove it, they won’t be able to make an example of her. She will be able to rule this city without their patronage. And she will make it a better place.”  
Same idealism, too, Vetinari mentally added to the list.  
“I expect that you have already chosen the right moment in which to reveal your findings? The dinner at Lord Fleurdaliso’s manor, perhaps?”  
She raised an eyebrow in reply.  
“I am a historian, Lord Vetinari. I won’t drop the bomb at some society event.” she said with distaste. “No, I will publish a comprehensive study of the codex in a scientific journal. I was thinking about the Journal of Antiquarian Studies. They will bring out a special issue this month which will fit perfectly and should attract much interest.” The mischievous smile was back.  
“Is this special issue going to cover the Fleurdeliso exhibition, by any chance?”, Vetinari asked.  
“In fact, it is! Isn’t that just a coincidence!”, she smiled innocently.  
Vetinari suppressed a smile himself. The woman’s wit and enthusiasm was invigorating, and he found her lack of protocol refreshing after the haughtiness and snide mockery of the official reception last night and the intense negotiations with the Prime Minister that morning. When had he last discussed an intellectual problem with someone, and one that wasn’t his own? He was quite looking forward to the reactions that Doctoressa Cardinale’s study would provoke. While he did not believe that it would be sufficient to free the Prime Minister from the meddling aristocracy, it would certainly stir things up a bit.  
As they walked in, he could see the look of focus and determination back in her features. She fiddled the pencil back in its place and marched towards her desk in the alcove. As he turned to his own seat in front of the bookshelves, Vetinari heard her utter a small cry. She had stopped halfway to her desk, staring at the surface in front of the open window, the empty square that should have contained a large, old book.


	4. Common Interests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vetinari inquires, meets some unpleasant people and finds that the mystery has become a crime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Dave again! This chapter would not exist without his help.

Doctoressa Cardinale stood still as a stone, mouth gaping open, her eyes reflecting the terrible realisation. The half-open window left little hope that the book had been taken away by the library, who, in this moment came ambling along the aisle, apparently unaware of what happened. His arrival woke the young woman from her state of frozen horror; she leapt towards the window and looked out, trying to see the thief, but there was no one in the garden. She turned around and looked at Vetinari, unable to speak. There was nothing to be said. They both understood the implications. Someone had noticed what she had been researching. Someone who had an interest in keeping her findings a secret. Even if she spoke about it now, she wouldn’t be able to prove anything. In fact, she might even be accused of having stolen the book, so that her claims could not be proven wrong. No one had known what she had been working on – it was only her word against that of the Fiordeliso-family who would of course insist that the book was an original and probably had historians who would confirm this for them.  
“They have taken my notes as well”, she said, her voice hollow. “Not that it matters.”  
“Sit and write down everything you remember”, said Vetinari. “It may be useful later.”  
The librarian looked at them across the room. “Is anything the matter?”  
“No”, both said in unison.  
“Then there is no reason to speak in this room. And please keep the windows shut.”  
Vetinari lead the confused woman out of the reading room and into an empty hallway of the old palace.  
“Think”, he said. “Who knew you were working on this?”  
“I haven’t told anyone, but of course I have been using resources from the Fiordeliso exhibition these past weeks. If someone inquired, I’m sure the librarian would have told them.” She paused. “But I cannot ask him. I would have to tell him that the book was stolen! People will think it was me!”  
“I can confirm that you were with me at the time of the theft.”, Vetinari said calmly. “Nonetheless, it would be advisable that he does not pass on information of the theft to the Fiordeliso family. They may be waiting for this to use it to discredit you. As long as the information is not official, they can hardly use it against you without revealing that they have something to do with it.”  
“What if they ask for the book to be returned?”  
“They might do this, but not today or tomorrow, that would be too obvious. We have a little time.”  
The doctoressa looked up at the taller man’s face. “We?”  
“Yes, doctoressa Cardinale. I feel partly responsible and besides, this story interests me. I will see what I can do to solve this together with you.”  
She looked slightly less panicky now, but still very concerned.  
“Let us speak to the librarian and see what we can find out.”  
The conversation with the librarian turned out to be quite complicated as the short, nervous man panicked even more about the theft than Carmen Cardinale had. Apart from the terrible fact that a valuable, antiquarian book had been stolen he was visibly terrified by the prospect of informing the owners about this. It took several minutes of Vetinari calmly explaining things to him before he understood that he was in fact asked not to tell anyone, authorised, no ordered to withhold this information from the Fiordelisos by the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork. Only then was he able to assemble his thoughts enough to think if he had spoken to anyone about Doctoressa Cardinale’s interest in the old miscellany. He had, in fact, spoken about to several people in the course of the past weeks, none of them from the Fiordeliso family though. He had been quite proud to have acquired such an important historical document for the library, even if temporarily, and thus spoken about it to his wife, the old man who ran the antiquarian shop across the square, the lady who worked in the little café in the courtyard, and perhaps one or two other people. While most people were surely not very interested in this piece of information, it was not hard to imagine that the knowledge had reached the owners of the book.  
“They wouldn’t ask for it back, of course.” mused the doctoressa. “That would look as if they had something to hide, and in case I had already found sufficient proof of the forgery, the book would be there to be examined. A theft would be much better.”  
“We will see how much they knew”, said Vetinari. “I will speak to his lordship tonight. People tend to be nervous when they are not sure how much the other person knows. And nervous people make mistakes.”  
Vetinari was quite right about that last remark, he often was. It was the nature of such mistakes that he did not sufficiently consider.

Havelock Vetinari was the last to arrive at the Fiordeliso manor. An elderly servant opened the door of his coach and walked him through an airy hall and a large dining room with pink wallpaper and out through a pair of large glazed doors onto a marble terrace. The other guests, about 15 men in dress robes and women in monochrome dresses stood in the garden in little groups. When the patrician stepped onto the terrace the conversations ceased. The man who said ‘informal’ too often and had worn a tuxedo at the reception hurried up the stairs, his deep red robes sweeping the white stone behind him.  
“My dear Lord Vetinari”, he cried out as if he had met a long-lost friend. “Such a pleasure to have you join our little gathering.”  
He took Vetinari’s arm and lead him down the steps to the garden. With gentle pressure he pushed him towards a group of people who stood on the gravel next to a tulip bed and who were already expecting him.  
“Please allow me to introduce you to our gracious host, Lord Minimo Ilario Fiordeliso and his wonderful wife, Lady Adalgiza. As you all know, ladies and gentlemen, the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork, Lord Havelock Vetinari.” The last sentence was spoken with a raised voice to ensure that all the members of this illustrious society could hear it clearly.  
Vetinari endured the cries of delight and the pleasantries that rose around him and accepted the glass of champagne that was offered to him. He remembered the faces of the local nobles, then noted which of the foreign ambassadors were present and which of them looked the most uncomfortable. Vetinari identified the ambassador of Klatch, a fat man in a tight silken west and too many rings on his short fingers, Seremia, Count of Gebra. The ambassador from Uberwald was a rather young man dressed in simple black robes, Margrave Tsven von Sevenbürgen. He looked ill at ease in the presence of one of the Quirmian lords who overwhelmed him with polite questions. Lady Ella of Genua seemed to be engaged in a lively conversation with two men Vetinari could not see properly. The representative of Hersheba was there, but not the one from Djellibeby, though Vetinari had seen him at the reception. Minerva Kazansakis from Ephebe was missing as well. Only the nobility had been invited, Vetinari noted.  
A few minutes after his arrival, as if they had been waiting for him, the lady of the house climbed a few steps up the stairs and pinged a spoon against her champagne glass, the unmistakable sign of someone about to deliver a delightful and witty speech.  
“My dearest guests,” she trilled, “please allow me to welcome you to our humble little garden soirée, also in the name of my husband and my son.” She waved her glass in the direction of Lord Fiordeliso in dark, purple-trimmed robes and a grumpy-looking younger man who wore blue velvet and had his hair styled into an enormous black wave on his forehead.  
“We are delighted to have such select guests tonight, men and women of taste and culture, each looking back on a long line of ancestors each of whom has made their contribution to the proud history and flourishing culture of your countries. We, that is to say, my husband, my son and myself, but also the ladies and gentlemen of Quirm, have dedicated our lives and fortunes to the improvement of our beautiful city. We are looking forward to forging new bonds with our friends from all over the disc, for the benefit of what is nearest and dearest to us: our countries and their peoples. We all know that politics does not only take place in serious negotiations but, just as friendship, sometimes needs a suitable environment and a pleasant atmosphere so we can identify our common interest and in a less formal frame find suitable strategies to achieve them.”  
If he had had any doubt about the purpose of this evening, Vetinari felt that the cat was out of the sack. There would be individual conversations and the careful dance of introducing the right people to the right groups for the rest of the evening, until his hosts could be sure that they had all ‘identified their common interests’, as they had called it. Good, that meant they wanted something from him. That was always useful.  
It took over an hour of small talk and people moving from group to group before Lord Fiordeliso and his son approached Vetinari in the carefully planned manner of two men who wanted to make the impression that they did not mean to talk about anything in particular. Vetinari would not make it easy for them.  
“These tulips are very beautiful, Lord Fiordeliso. You must tell me the secret”, Vetinari said, before the old lord could deliver his carefully planned opening remark. The man was slightly put off but he caught himself quickly.  
“The gardener gets them from Genua, I believe. I will send you a note with the address of the grower, my dear lord Vetinari.”  
“Please do! They would do wonders for the palace garden.”  
“Certainly, certainly. And a wonderful palace it is, I hear. A king’s palace, is that not so?”  
Vetinari acknowledged how quickly the man had turned the subject of the conversation in the right direction, but he did not let him wander off with it just yet.  
“It is, true enough. If you ever visit, you must see the opera house as well. A masterpiece of modern architecture and so much easier on the eye than the old, clunky style of the palace.”  
The man’s face did not betray anything, but his son moved the corners of his mouth in distaste.  
“Ankh-Morpork is certainly very modern in many respects. You are truly pulling the city kicking and screaming into the century of the... err...”  
“Plumcake”, Vetinari prompted, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes.  
“Yes, exactly. And yet you have always known which traditions were worth preserving, haven’t you my dear lord Vetinari?”  
“I don’t fix what isn’t broken”, said Vetinari.  
“Well said, my lord! Well said! You have not been led astray by political experiments, when clearly what worked best was the way things had always been done!” Apparently, the man did not know much about Ankh-Morpork, or perhaps he had decided to ignore its little quirks, such as the thieves guild and its inventive monetary system, which were clearly not how things had always been done, but Vetinari did not reply.  
“People here in Quirm have always felt quite adventurous when it came to the way in which we organised our administration. I find it quite astonishing how our little experiment has developed. They call it ‘democracy’, I’m sure you know that.”  
Vetinari nodded.  
“And now, they have elected this woman! She means well, I am sure. Lovely lady, I am told. It is such a shame that her ideas cannot be realized. What a nice little world it would be, I am sure, if we had free education for all, and equality. And she is bright, for a commoner. But a few years of school cannot compensate for an upbringing in a family that has been involved in politics for centuries. Like my son here, got politics with his mother’s milk. A young man with this background would know that you cannot treat all people the same.”  
“We will have to wait and see how she manages”, said Vetinari. “Perhaps you underestimate her.”  
“Oh, this is of course possible. Maybe some kind of miracle happens, and everyone will become naturally hard-working and honest, so that they won’t need proper government any longer. But if this fails to happen, I’m afraid, she might not just harm our wonderful city. Just imagine, my lord, when this sort of thing catches on. Suddenly people in other places, too, will want to elect someone from the street who promises them all sorts of things they cannot give. Would you want this to happen in your city, my lord?”  
“The people of Ankh-Morpork are generally suspicious of anyone offering them anything free, even if it’s someone from their own family. They are much less suspicious of the nobles.”  
“Ahaa!”, the old lord exclaimed triumphantly “And why do you think this is?”  
“To say it with the words of the Duke of Ankh, Sir Samuel Vimes, it is because they know for a fact that the nobles cannot be trusted.” Vetinari was beginning to enjoy himself.  
“But please, my dear Lord Vetinari! Surely, the many merits and virtues of the noble families are well attested! Many of them can trace the heroic deeds of their ancestors back for centuries! My own family history records not only such valiant actions but also the rewards given by the kings in acknowledgment, I am sure so does yours.” Lord Fiordeliso had played his aces and waited for Vetinari to see it.  
“My family was, unfortunately, less thorough in keeping the records up to date. The origins of the Vetinari family become somewhat blurred in the mists of time. But I have heard of the beautiful witnesses that prove the manifold victories and achievements of your house.”  
Lord Fiordeliso was visibly proud that Vetinari had heard of this. “Indeed”, he blurted out. “The oldest records date back 350 years! My son collected some of the best pieces and showed them to the public in a little exhibition some weeks ago. It contains a family chronicle from the century of the limping lizard.”  
Vetinari kept his eyes fixed on the old man, but he could see his son shift in the corner of his eyes.  
“Is that so? I should very much like to see it.”

When Vetinari left his lodgings the following morning he felt rather elated. He had agreed the previous day to meet the doctoressa in the library and fill her in on whatever he had found out during the evening. This little puzzle kept him entertained while it served his interests at the same time. Also, he was looking forward to discussing things with the historian. She was smart, and she talked to him like one educated person to another, apparently not intimidated by his position of power. When he arrived at the library, she was not yet there. He took the book he had been reading this past week and waited. It did not take long before it dawned on him, that she was not coming.


End file.
